would
discover where that wrong lay--She would curb her own impatience, would
fling herself into his interests, would learn the things that Roddy
wanted from her and give them to him--

Then, as the sun sank lower and the yellow shadows crept up the sky, she
felt desolate and lonely. Vigour left her--She had descended now into
the valley and had come to the deserted house with the stark frowning
trees. This place, she had heard, had in the eighteenth century been a
private mad-house, and now behind its darkened windows she could have
fancied shapes and down the wind the echo of voices.

She fought with all her might against a great tide of loneliness that
was now sweeping up about her. There had always been so many people
around her and yet she had always been lonely. Even May and Dr.
Christopher had not helped her there. She had a sense now of all the
people in all the world who were waiting for the other people who could
understand them; they were always missing one another, so near
sometimes, sometimes touching, and then, after all, going through life
alone.

Those were the people with feelings and emotions--and as for the people
without them, of what use was life to _them_?

Either way, except for the fortunate way, Life was a futile business.

Then, climbing up from that sinister little valley and seeing that the
sky had turned to violet and that the evening star was there burning as
she had known that it would, she laughed at her morbidity.

She shook herself free from it, thought once more of the things that she
would do with Roddy, thought of London and the fun that she would have
there, thought of Christopher and Uncle John and even Aunt Adela; then,
as she turned down the little crooked path towards the house, she
thought again of her cousin; she would work without ceasing to bring him
back into the family.

That, at any rate, was work upon which she might commence on her return
to London, and as she clicked the little wicket-gate, a side-entrance to
the garden, behind her, she was almost happy again.

The dusk was deepening into darkness, the moon had not yet risen above
the hill. She had entered the garden on the further side of the house
and passed through a long laurel path, her feet silenced by the snow.

Jacob had stayed, some way behind. She could see the white lawn and
beyond it the lighted house; she was about to step out of the dark
shadow of the laurels when she found, just in front of her